Cigarrettes and Steering Wheels
by obviousbicycle
Summary: Year: 1920. 17 year old actress Rose and her mother have moved into Aunt Ada's massive estate outside of New York City to save money. Rose has been sneaking out to her director's lavish parties to smoke, drink, and forget the world. When Rose's aunt hires Rose a personal chauffeur (and aspiring artist) named Jack Dawson, he has to keep all of Rose's secrets and her out of trouble.
1. Chapter 1

"Rose Dewitt Bukater, let me tell you, you're a star. You're bigger than the Gish sisters," Mr. Davis, her frequent director, ranted on, a glass of whiskey in one hand and a lit cigar in the other. He was a rich man, with a thinning head of hair but a loud personality and a large mansion to make up for it. He wasn't a very handsome man either, but there was always a young girl or two on his arm.

Mr. Davis had decided to throw a huge party to celebrate his next moving picture, with loud jazz music and hundreds of young socialites. Rose could practically see her mother in this place, looking around in horror and mumbling about "new money" or whatever. There was a time in her life when Rose hated parties, but the truth is, she'd never been to a real party, just the ones where a bunch of old rich people sat around and talked about how much money they had. Mr. Davis's parties were extravagant, loud, and fun. When she was 16, Rose and her mother had practically dripped their money flow dry. Her father had left them nothing but a good name when he passed, and after several years, the two decided to move in with Rose's Aunt Ada and her husband, Uncle George. She had been more than happy to welcome her sister and niece into her overly large estate on the outskirts of New York City, especially with George almost always away on business. Ada had encouraged Rose to follow her acting dream, especially since they were so close to the city, despite her mother's protests. First she acted in plays, but then Mr. Davis gave her the opportunity to be in one of his motion pictures, which would make its debut in three days.

"Oh please Mr. Davis, I'm hardly as famous as them," Rose dismissed his compliment, although she was flattered.

"You're a true talent Rose, really, you are. I mean you're only like what? 18?"

"17, Mr. Davis, now how about you reward me with another drink rather than smothering me with your praise," She said with a glint in her eye, holding up her empty glass.

Mr. Davis let out a hearty laugh, and the young girl on his arm who had hardly spoken to them also giggled.

"Jean could you get sweet Rose here another whiskey?" Mr. Davis addressed the girl next to him.

"Sure thing, Robbie," The girl said, taking the empty glass and walking to find a waiter.

"Robbie?" Rose laughed at the nickname.

"She's not formal, that one. You should learn a thing or two, with all this Mr. Davis talk."

"That's what your name is!" Rose defended herself. "You are my boss, after all."

The girls Mr. Davis pursued were usually about Rose's age, but Rose and Mr. Davis had never had that type of a relationship. He was a sort of strange father figure to her, and her a daughter to him. Their friendship was weird, but neither of them questioned it.

Mr. Davis shook his head and scoffed, "Call me what you want, there's no point in arguing with the likes of you."

Rose laughed, "You sound like my mother."

I bet you were stubborn as a child."

"Quite the understatement"

The two laughed together again, a bit too hard for a joke that wasn't that funny, but the laughter was fueled by alcohol.

"Speaking of mothers, I should really get going. I promised to be home for some boring dinner party and I'm already late. Drink that whiskey for me alright?"

"Don't get into too much trouble. Ruth will skin me alive!" Mr. Davis knew that Rose's mother didn't like him. She looked down upon anyone that was new money, especially with a fortune in the arts.

"I'll try not to!"

* * *

"You are late, Rose." Ruth watched her daughter stumble in from the door, slightly disheveled and smelling like cigarettes.

"My apologies mother, the traffic was so cumbersome on my way from the theater," Rose lied with such perfect timing that it was believable.

Most of the people in the room were too busy in their own conversation to notice the girl that had walked in. It was just another one of Aunt Ada's dinner parties, with people she didn't recognize nor care about conversing in the sitting room about money before the meal. Only a few mere seconds after she entered the room, one of the servants had announced that dinner was ready. She gave her mother a small smile which was not returned as everyone slowly got up and made their way to the dining hall.

Unfortunately, Rose sat in between her mother and a random socialite, having no one to talk to, not that she'd want to talk anyways. The stark contrast between Mr. Davis's party and Aunt Ada's was comical. Footmen in black tuxedos circled the table like vultures, serving the guests as they idly chattered. People sat stiffly, nodded politely, and gave each other small smiles of false approval. Rose hated these parties. She felt as if she'd seen her whole life before, or as if it were going in circles, and acting was the only way to get out of the endless cycle of small talk and dinners. If she hadn't fallen in love with the art sooner, she would have gone insane.

"I hear that Rose is quite the actress, isn't that right?" a voice with a southern twang said.

Rose lifted her head at the mention of her name. People were looking at her expectantly. She wasn't sure who asked the question, but she nodded and smiled.

Yes, I, uh, I do enjoy acting"

"Do you do any plays 'round here?" the voice finally matched with the face, a larger woman with brown hair and a round face.

"I've done around ten plays, but I only had a big role in two of them. I just finished filming for a moving picture however, which is premiering in three days I believe."

More people were interested now, and the whole table had their eyes on her. She felt like she was in the spotlight, a feeling she normally loved, but now made her squirm with discomfort.

"Oh a moving picture!" a man chimed in, "Who is the director? I know a few good men in the film industry."

Rose knew that Mr. Davis didn't have the best reputation among these kinds of people, but she couldn't lie, so she told them, "Robert Davis."

"Oh I've heard about him. Supposedly he throws quite raunchy parties in that mansion of his," a woman in a blue dress mentioned.

Ruth spoke up, "I never did like him much, but Rose enjoys working with him nonetheless."

"He's a fantastic director, really," Rose defended Mr. Davis, shooting her mother a short glare.

"Rose is always out and about in the city because of her acting," Aunt Ada said, "she uses the car so much when George is away, and when he is here she has to use taxis, poor thing."

A few people at the table were visibly disgusted by the thought of using public transportation. Rose resisted the urge to roll her eyes. She actually preferred taxis, because when she used Aunt Ada's car she had to be driven around by Uncle George's chauffeur, Bedford. Bedford was a strict man in his 40s who seldom talked unless it was to Aunt Ada about Rose's whereabouts. She could rarely ever sneak around to Mr. Davis's parties with Bedford driving, so usually she had him drop her off at the theater or some place and tell him to pick her up much later, and in the meantime she would walk or take a taxi to her real destination.

Aunt Ada continued, "Well I don't think she should be put through that much longer. George and I recently purchased a newer model Rolls Royce, and instead of selling the old Model T, we decided to hire a personal chauffeur for Rose!"

Rose almost choked on her water, "P-Pardon?"

Her mother chimed in, "Rose, your Aunt is getting you a chauffeur. Isn't that fantastic? It will be so much safer than having ruffians drive you in those taxis or walking home. Who knows what lurks in this city."

Rose channeled her acting skills into mustering up faking a smile, "Oh goodness thank you Aunt Ada!"

The dinner table changed the subject of their conversation, while Rose's mind was somewhere else. Now she would have a personal chauffeur. How ridiculous. Why can't she just learn to drive herself places, or better yet, just take a god forsaken taxi. She would now have a permanent escort: a pair of eyes on her at all times to inform her mother or Aunt Ada what she was doing. Rose sulked and tried her hardest not to stab herself with her seafood fork.

* * *

A/n: This is my first ever published fan fiction for anything! I'm very excited! Jack will come in next chapter, and there will eventually be appearances of Fabrizio and Tommy if you guys would like. If you could leave a review that would be fantastic! Thank you! :D


	2. Chapter 2

A/n: Here's the second chapter! Thank you to everyone who reviewed, favorited, and/or followed the story!

* * *

"You know back in my day being an actress wasn't a respectable activity for a woman of our status," Ruth said, watching Rose get ready for her day at the theater. "It was practically the same as being a prostitute."

"Well then I'm grateful that I live in 1920, mother," Rose spoke in a monotone voice as she finished pinning her hair up. She stepped back and gave herself one last look.

"Makeup used to be looked down upon as well. If a woman was seen possessing it she might as well have been jumping in every man's bed."

Rose feigned interest while her mother spoke, sliding in some pearl earrings.

"All that makeup is ridiculous. How your father would be rolling over in his grave if he saw-"

"That's enough, mother."

Rose stared at Ruth, who sat stiffly in one of the chairs in her bedroom. Ruth had her lips pursed disapprovingly, and shot an icy glare right back at her daughter. Rose hated it when her mother spoke about her father. She hung his death above Rose's head, as if it was her fault, or like everything she did now would affect him in some way. "_If only he could see what you were doing now, oh how it would hurt him". "I'm so glad that your poor late father isn't here to see this, may the lord rest his soul." _Rose knew it wasn't true, but the mention of him still made her eyes sting. She barely even remembered her father. All of the images of him in her mind had been polluted by the voice of her mother.

"When we get back on our feet financially, you will not be continuing this hobby," Ruth said, with a threatening tone in her cold voice.

Rose let out a long sigh, turning back to her reflection and trying to keep herself composed, "Is that so?"

"Yes," Ruth continued, watching her daughter flatten her dress against her figure, "no man wants his wife to be running amok with a painted face and stinking of cigarettes."

Rose gritted her teeth as she slid a pearl stranded bracelet onto her wrist.

"Rose, you understand that the only way we will ever live like we once did is marrying you to a suitable man."

"Yes, I do understand," Rose spoke coolly, as she always did with her mother: flat and emotionless.

"Good."

A hostile silence fell between the two, which was not out of the ordinary. Rose wanted so badly to tell her mother that they could make their own living through Rose's acting but she knew that the very idea would probably cause Ruth to faint, so she held her tongue.

A soft knocking came from outside the door, followed by a maid telling them that Aunt Ada and Uncle George requested the presence of Rose outside in the front of the estate. Rose left her mother to comply with her aunt and uncle's request.

She made her way through the massive estate, past the ancient paintings of late members of Uncle George Lennox's family and down the hard marble staircase that made her footsteps sound heavy. The house made her feel small and mouse-like, just like it used to when she visited her aunt and uncle as a child. Rose opened the massive mahogany door to the front lawn and stepped outside.

* * *

It was the biggest house Jack had ever seen, well, besides those big ole castles in Europe and such. Everything was unnecessarily large about it, like it was a home that had been built for giants. The doors themselves were probably five times his size in height, big and brown and dark. They looked proud, like there was something important and precious that they were hiding behind them. There were thick columns on either side of the doors, holding up the giant roof for the porch. Jack felt kind of intimidated if he was being entirely honest, but he wouldn't let that show.

Jack didn't really know what he was getting himself into. He had never been a chauffeur before, but he knew how to drive, and that was all he really needed, right? He owed it all to Tommy, really. He was a gardener for the Lennox family, and he overheard one of the maids talking about how the family was looking for another chauffeur.

"_Hey Jack, you can drive right?" Tommy had asked him through his heavy Irish accent in the pub one evening._

"_Yeah, why?"_

"_I think I got the perfect way y'can earn some money, lad."_

This whole thing was kind of ridiculous really. They needed someone to drive their 17 year old niece around. Jack didn't understand why the spoiled girl couldn't just drive herself.

_Rich people. I'll never understand 'em._

Mr. and Mrs. Lennox had greeted him when he arrived, but with that I-am-above-you attitude. They didn't seem too bad. Jack decided he could live with them being a little bit cold.

"Dawson, I need to ask a favor from you," Mr. Lennox announced. He was a tall man with a handlebar mustache: the kind of rich looking person that Jack and his friends made fun of.

Jack nodded and looked up at him, "Of course sir."

"If you would be so kind-" he started, glancing at Mrs. Lennox, then starting again, "It appears that Miss Dewitt Bukater has not been entirely honest with her whereabouts. We ask that you inform us on her activities and locations, is this understood?"

"Yes sir."

"Perfect. She should be coming down any-"

"Oh Rose dear!" Mrs. Lennox cooed as the door opened, "We have your new chauffeur for you!"

Out of those massive doors came what they must have been so proud about hiding. Standing before Jack was the most beautiful girl he had ever seen in his life. She looked like a porcelain doll, so perfect that she was almost unreal. Her skin was pale and her hair was a fiery red, and she had the most piercing green eyes he had ever seen. Those eyes could shoot daggers, he could tell. Her brow was furrowed slightly, like something was worrying her, and her eyes were squinting a bit from the intense sun. Jack immediately became self conscious. He knew that he probably looked dirty and could have dressed up more. He mentally kicked himself for not trying harder with his appearance today. Not that it mattered; she barely even glanced at him.

"Thank you, Aunt Ada. I really must be going. A friend is expecting me." Her voice was cold and flat, almost rehearsed.

"Of course, dear. Goodbye!"

The girl ("Rose" he assumed her name was), walked towards the car door and stood there expectantly. Jack came to the realization that he was supposed to open the door, and quickly hurried over to do so. She mumbled a "thank you" and sat in the back seat. Jack took a deep breath, trying to compose himself, and got into the front.

"So, ah, where d'you wanna go?"

Jack could see Rose raise a single eyebrow at him in the rearview mirror.

"Anywhere far from here."

_Jeez…_

Jack drove the car away from the house and down the long dirt road towards the city. The massive Lennox property was full of patches of tall trees and open fields, causing the illusion of driving through the country side.

"Alrighty then. I'll just keep going and you tell me when, how about that?"

He could hear a scoff from behind him. "This is ridiculous…" Rose muttered to herself, laughing bitterly.

"Excuse me?"

"Are you even a chauffeur?" She asked, looking at him in disbelief.

"I'm driving you around aren't I?"

"That's not what I meant."

"Well what did you mean?"

She let out a breath of frustration. Jack could tell she was getting annoyed, and he couldn't help but smile.

"Well look at what you are wearing, for starters," Rose said, motioning towards his outfit.

Jack glanced down before putting his eyes back on the road. His clothes were clean, which was quite the rarity, so he didn't know what she was talking about.

"What about them?"

"Chauffeurs typically wear _suits,_" she explained, "sometimes even uniforms with little caps. You're just wearing-," she stopped, trying to find the words, "well you're just wearing _clothes._"

"Would you rather me wear nothing?" Jack asked, smirking.

"You're incredibly rude."

"You just insulted my clothes, that's pretty rude if I do say so myself."

"I didn't _insult _them"

"Your tone did."

"You're ridiculous."

"Now you've insulted me_ and_ my clothes." he replied, pretending to be offended, "I thought high class girls were supposed to be polite."

"I thought chauffeurs were supposed to know where they're going," a smile began to play at her lips.

He continued to act offended, "Hey now, who said I didn't know where I was going? You haven't even told me your destination."

"My destination is off the property."

"And that's where we're going."

She shook her head and laughed, "You took a wrong turn. We're going towards the guest house."

"Guest _house_?"

She nodded. Jack shook his head. "Rich people…"

Rose ignored him and proceeded to guide him off the property and back on the road towards the city, then gave him directions to her destination along the way. She was right: he had no clue where he was going. The rest of the drive was mostly Rose just explaining which turns to take. When they had arrived, the destination appeared to be an empty theater. Its lights were out and the windows were dark, and there were no people around it.

"Just drop me off here and pick me up around midnight." She instructed him nonchalantly, about to exit the car.

"You're staying here till midnight?"

She stopped, obviously unused to being questioned.

"What I do between now and midnight is none of your business." Her hostile tone from when she first entered the car had returned.

Jack turned in his seat to look at her, "There's no one there."

Ignoring him, she didn't even wait for the door to be opened. She stepped out of the car and walked towards the theater, unlocking it with a key she had in her purse. He couldn't help but stare in awe at her. She was so gorgeous, but had so much fire to her.

Jack jumped in his seat as the car behind him angrily honked. He put the car back in drive and drove away, thinking of her the whole way back to the estate.

* * *

A/n: Feel free to share your opinions or comments in the reviews, they are always appreciated. I'll start working on chapter 3 probably right after this, and it will be up as soon as possible. Thanks guys! :)


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Hello everyone! I'm so sorry for the wait on this, I've been on vacation and I also wanted to put forth more effort into this chapter. Tell me what you think. :) enjoy!

* * *

Rose's eyes were as dark as the city's night sky, starless and dull. Her lips were as red as the blood that she wanted so desperately to feel running in her veins, but lately she felt numb. She stumbled along the sidewalks, slightly intoxicated and pondering her life. The night had been wild, but even extravagant parties full of sour, bootlegged liquor and bitter cigarettes could not fill the crevice in her soul. She pulled out another ciggy from her small purse and struggled to light it, eventually getting frustrated and throwing it onto the highway, watching it crumple beneath passing cars. This gave her a strange sort of satisfaction, watching the thing pitifully collapse into the pavement. She stopped to take in the scene. The road was slick from earlier rainstorms, making the lights of the city mirror off the black asphalt. The reflections were distorted colors, reds and whites and yellows, blending and warping in the ways of an impressionist painting. God, she loved art. If Rose was gifted in that branch of talent she would recreate this scene, right here, right now. She didn't know why, because she had seen so many nights like this one, but something about it just needed to be transferred onto canvas.

A loud car horn brought her from her thoughts, and she turned towards the source. Aunt Ada's black car sat underneath the theatre's lights, and getting out of it was that poor excuse for a chauffeur.

Rose had dealt with many drivers in her day, but she had never met one as uncouth as this one. He was pompous, overly casual, and fairly annoying, with that stupid smirk on his face. As he exited the vehicle, he shut the door and leaned up against in, hands in pockets and one leg crossed over the other. He was tall and lean, with a mess of blonde hair atop his head. Somehow this annoyed her too, and she almost wanted to reach out and fix it, slicking it back or something to look a bit more presentable. _Oh my god I sound like my mother._ She shook the thought from her mind. Rose began tentatively making her way towards him, trying not to miss a step with the world around her slowly spinning.

"Rough night?" He called out.

She knew she looked like a mess, makeup running and hair in tangles, but she couldn't even come up with a reply. The ground felt farther away than usual…

Suddenly she was right in front of him, and he was staring at her like she had two heads. There was a little crease between his eyebrows.

She wanted to smack it off.

Or maybe kiss it.

What's his name again?

Did he ever tell her his name?

"Are you alright? You seem a bit out of it." The man said, the stupid smirk long gone. She kind of missed it.

"Y-Yeah yeah I'm fine I just- what even is your name?"

He laughed, well not really a laugh more like one of those little puffs of air that people let out when they find something amusing. Nevertheless, it made the smirk return on his lips.

"Alright Rose, I think it's time for you head on home," he guided her into the back of the car.

She stared at him, "Did I even tell you my name?"

For some reason, Rose's questions greatly amused him. He did one of those half-laughs again, not answering her question and climbing into the front seat.

"Will you just answer the stupid question?" Rose asked hotly.

"You are so easy to annoy." He began to drive the car away from the theater, not looking back at her. She could hear the smile in his voice.

"That's because I can't stand you."

He sighed, turning his head for a second, "Jack. My name's Jack Dawson. I heard your Aunt and Uncle call you Rose, so I just assumed."

"Fair enough. Rose Dewitt Bukater is the full thing."

He laughed at her lengthy name, "I'm gonna need you to write that one down."

"That's something you should remember if you're going to be my chauffeur, Mr. Dawson."

He shook his head disapprovingly, "Just call me Jack. Mr. Dawson makes me feel like an old man."

She giggled. _Giggled_. God, she hated the sound of her laugh when it was like that. It's girlish, high pitched form came out whenever she had a little bit to drink, and she wasn't drunk enough to not be aware of how stupid she sounded. "_Giggle water"_ was what some of her theatre friends called alcohol, and fittingly so.

"Jack," She mused, as if trying out the sound of his name on her tongue. It suited him. One syllable, his identity: brief but strong. _Jack_.

"Rose," he parroted, mocking her airy tone.

Scrunching up her nose, Rose reached across the seat in front of her and smacked his shoulder. It must not have hurt, because he barely even flinched.

"That wasn't lady like."

"Shut up."

And he did, for a while. Rose stared out the window and watched the world move past, blurs of muted color darkened by the lack of daylight. The familiar crunch of the Lennox property's gravel road could be felt beneath the tires.

"I take it you weren't really at the theater," he spoke, a weirdly cautious tone in his voice.

"What makes you say that?" Rose asked, not really listening to him.

He sighed again. Why did he seem so worried about her?

"Well first of all, you weren't at the theater when I got there, you were _walking back_ to the theater. Second of all: with all due respect, you're kind of a mess right now-"

Rose audibly scoffed.

Jack pulled over to the side of the empty road onto the grass. There were too many trees surrounding them to see the mansion, but it couldn't be very far. He turned around to face her, an almost condescending look on his face, but more out of a protective nature than a controlling one. He ran a hand through his messy hair and took a deep breath, "Look I'm sorry. I know that you're used to people who work for you that only speak when spoken to and have manners and what not, but I'm not like that. When I said you look like a mess- ugh, I meant like, ok Rose it's obvious you've been drinking. I really don't want you to get in trouble with your family. That's kind of what this is about."

Rose narrowed her eyes at him. "Jack I appreciate whatever you think you're doing but I'm a big girl and I'm capable of handling myself. I don't need you scolding me about drinking bootlegged liquor-"

She was cut off by the sound of him laughing.

"Rose, you misunderstand me completely. I don't give a damn if you go out and party all night and get drunk. I'm worried about how well you're gonna hide it from your folks. It's lookin' pretty obvious right now."

She laughed too, "Don't you worry, I'll tell them all about my massive headache and hurry right to bed before they catch another glance. Oh, the pain!" She fell back into the back seat, hand to her forehead in feigned distress.

They both burst into a fit of giggles.

"You're an actress, all right." He sighed, continuing to look at her. "Before I drive you back to your palace of hell though, what would you want me to tell your Uncle? Because he wanted to know what you're up to and-"

"Same story I use my darling," Rose told him, leaning her elbows up on the back of the front seats, "Theater work is ever so busy."

A wide grin cracked across Jack's face, almost as if he were impressed with her. Rose hoped so. Impressing people was something she found joy in.

They both sat there, staring at each other as their smiles began to fade. Their faces were closer than before, and Rose's eyes kept wandering down to his lips.

He really does have nice lips.

How can such an annoying man be so pretty?

Rose coughed to break her hypnosis over his face. She smiled tightly and leaned back into her seat, sitting back up. He did something similar, giving her a brief smile before getting back into a driving position. They sat in silence until the car pulled up to the mansion.

"Goodnight, Rose."

As he was helping her out of the car it took every fiber of her being to not make eye contact, for the risk of gazing into his pretty blue eyes like an idiot.

"Goodnight, Mr. Dawson" It was a reflex, but she didn't bother correcting herself.

She hurried inside the house, her face feeling warm.

* * *

The sticky early summer air was so hot that it felt like Rose was moving through liquid. Her dress was far too thick for the atmosphere, clinging to her skin and suffocating her pores. She thought about how nice it would be to strip down for a nice cold swim. The last time she swam was three summers ago, when she was fourteen. It was the last time she saw her cousins, who were related to her on her father's side. The water by the Dewitt Bukater vacation home in the Hamptons was crystal clear. She could still hear their delighted shrieks as they splashed through the ocean. Somehow this memory made her sweat even more. Every now and then a delightful breeze would make its way through the trees, but in between the small gusts Rose felt as if she might pass out from the heat. She toyed with the pearls around her neck absent-mindedly as the visiting ladies chattered around the table, dressed in summery whites that made their skin look even paler and their lips look even redder. Her aunt had insisted on having tea outside today, because "the sky is just so blue!" Now here they were, six ladies sitting at a wooden table in the middle of a garden, sipping at delicate porcelain teacups and praying that they didn't get a tan. Rose drowned out the conversation in her mind, listening to the distant trickling of a fountain and the occasional bird song.

"Ladies," Ruth piped up, "do forgive me, but you must excuse my daughter and me for a walk to discuss some important matters."

The ladies gave gentle smiles and understanding nods as Ruth rose from the table.

"Come, Rose."

Dazed, Rose followed her mother with an air of confusion. The two walked away from the others, trying their best to seem casual, but Rose could tell when something was bothering her mother. As soon as they were well out of earshot from the others, Ruth began to speak.

"I know what you're up to."

Trying to keep a poker face, Rose could only muster up "Oh?"

"Rose you're not just going to the theater for work every night, I'm not an idiot."

_Did Jack tell her? No he couldn't have he left after bringing me home… Right?_

"Really?" Rose tried to appear collected, "Then what am I doing every night Mother?"

Ruth scowled, not bothering to scold her daughter for her rudeness, "Those liberal theater friends of yours are buying bootlegged liquor and you all are getting drunk together like a couple of common barmaids. This is unacceptable behavior Rose."

_Well it's not as bad as the truth._

"And you know that your engagement with Mr. Hockley is still on."

"I haven't seen that man in months!" Rose protested. He was away in Europe for business or something else dreadfully boring. She never liked the guy, even though he had been trying to woo her for almost a year now. He had money though, and as long as a man had money, he could be 85 years old and her mother would still sell her off without batting an eyelash.

"That's beyond the point. He is your fiancé, Rose." Ruth stared at her daughter, horrified that she would be the slightest bit unhappy with the arrangement, "This is our only chance out. Our _only chance!_ Do_ not_ mess this up by being a drunken fool when he returns. I will not have you ruin this. Which is why I've decide to give you a curfew."

"Pardon?"

"You will not be allowed out of my sight when the sun sets, you hear me? Not until Mr. Hockley returns. Hopefully by then you will have come to your senses."

* * *

A/N: What did you guys think of this chapter? Was it better than the first two? What do you think about Mr. Hockley coming to town? I'd love to know :)

Thanks for reading!

-E


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